


At 20 He Learned the Truth

by sdwbf



Series: Sammy's Girl [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bestiality, M/M, Puppy Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwbf/pseuds/sdwbf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On his own on a hot summer day, Dean shakes his booty, Bobby's dog jumps it … um him. When Sam comes home, well, the kid always had wanted a dog. This is a 2-part series and contains NO sex between Sam and Dean -- that's all Dean/dogs -- but it does contain loving puppy play or at least as close as someone like me who has no experience in it could get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At 20 He Learned the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I know that having Dean Winchester sexually unaware at 20 is probably the most far-fetched thing about this story (which is saying a lot.) Originally he was going to be 17 (yeah, yeah, still a stretch), because the Janis Ian song _At Seventeen_ was on when I got the idea. (Title is still a play on the song's first line, but BTW, this is NOT a song fic.) But as the second part of the story occurred to me, I needed Sam to be 16 so he could drive in a town where people would know how old he was. Lousy as I am with math, I know 16 plus 4 is 20, so 20 it is

  
**At 20 He Learned the Truth** by sdwbf

The summer of his 20th birthday, much to his disgust, Dean Winchester was still a virgin. He'd been more than eager to lose it for the last couple of years. But time, circumstances and opportunity had failed to line up to make it happen. Not to mention the right guy. Yeah, he'd gotten far enough around the bases to know that round curves didn't do nearly as much for him as the thought of rough hands holding his hips while a cock filled his ass.

He groaned and adjusted himself in the cutoffs that hung on his hips. Laundry day. He'd been putting it off until he didn't even have a clean pair of boxers to wear under the threadbare denim. Didn't mind all that much. Was one of those scorching hot South Dakota days that begged the fewest clothes possible.

Heat had sent him outside after he'd gotten a load of whites in the dryer, and he'd decided he might as well wash his baby before a drought set in. The cold well water flowing from the hose cooled the Impala's dark metal making it touchable, and he got to work. Stupid cutoffs proved damned annoying. Just too damned loose. Kept flashing his crack every time he shifted or bent like some dirty-joke of a plumber.

Good thing Bobby and Dad had gone off on a hunt or one of them would have taken a strap to him. Didn't even have to worry about traumatizing his little brother since the kid was off at soccer camp. Meant he had the place to himself for the entire week.

Reminded of that, he kicked the stupid things off, and smirked at how dirty it felt to wash the car stark naked. He enjoyed the sensation, imagining himself starring in some cheesy but hot – because he was in it – porn flick. Vague images of men's hands on him got him hard, but he decided to tease himself and kept his hands away from his cock.

When he finished he'd go upstairs and put the dildo he kept hidden in his duffle to use. Umm, yes. Nice and thick, long enough to bang away at his prostate. Always took the edge off even if it left him feeling a little unfulfilled.

Nope, not going to let his thoughts go there. He was naked, hard and sun warmed. No reason to go all buzz-killer. He began stretching and arching. Shaking his ass to play to a fantasy audience. Imagined thousands of men watching his movie, dreaming of popping his cherry.

Humming happily at the thought, he bent forward toward a spot near the center of the hood, and got an abrupt reminder he wasn't totally alone. Something warm and wet licked across his wantonly displayed hole, and he froze. Another lick made him gasp. Rumsfield. How had he forgotten about Bobby's Rottweiler?

He reached back to shove the dog away. Honest to God, he did. Except his hands gripped his ass and pulled his cheeks apart to give the probing tongue even better access. Dean groaned, his cock leaking pre-come on his baby's finish, but for once he didn't care. All he cared about was getting that tongue to move deeper, faster. "Please," he panted.

Dog kept eating him out. Getting his hole all sopping and loose, while driving Dean to distraction. So good. Damn, so good. Was on the edge of coming when it stopped. Rumsfield dropped to the ground and Dean heard him shuffling back away from the car. "No," he groaned.

The dog barked at him, a paw brushed at his ass, then another bark. Dean's legs began to tremble as he suddenly understood what Rumsfield wanted. What Dean wanted. His skin felt hot, burning, his mouth dry, while his mind screamed this was 'wrong, wrong, wrong.' But he pushed himself off the hood.

Felt clumsy and weak as he slowly went down on his hands and knees. Legs splayed wide, head dropped to his forearms, he presented his virgin ass. Rumsfield wasted no time scrambling onto Dean's back, hips already thrusting in an eager quest for the well-prepared hole. Took him three tries before he found it, then Dean groaned loudly as the cock shoved into him. No finesse, no care whether Dean enjoyed it or not, just a fast hard pounding working the length inside him.

So damned wrong. So filthy wrong. So incredibly hot. He whimpered, falling into fantasy again. Bitch in heat, servicing a stud, while his owner … Dad? Bobby? No, Sam. Had to be Sam. Teenager full of self-centered certainty everything he thought and did was right, he was the kind of owner Dean wanted. Could imagine him tying Dean down, ordering him to submit to stud after stud until his belly filled with, "Puppies," he gasped. "Fuck me full of your puppies."

The knot shoved into him as he pleaded, and he screamed, his cock shooting all over the dirt beneath him. To his amazement, even as he gasped through the aftershocks of his release, his cock hardened again. Rumsfield turned putting them ass-to-ass, and Dean could do nothing but kneel there on the ground while dog jizz filled his … cunt. Yeah, his pretty doggie cunt. All hot and hungry for his stud's puppies. Thought made him come again.

He whimpered when Rumsfield finally pulled free. Felt all empty and abandoned and wanting more. Turned out not to be a problem. Before he even found the strength to get to his feet, the dog came back for seconds.

*

Dean didn't bother to dress. Yes, he took care of himself. Showered, ate, drank, even put down a garbage bag then a towel on the sofa so he could watch television while his ass leaked spunk. And whenever Rumsfield barked, he dropped to the floor like a good bitch.

The next day, the dog brought a couple of friends over to play. Both were mutts of impressive size. Scared Dean a little, but he was an obedient bitch and presented his cunt when they ordered him to. Discovered he was a size queen, bigger the better, and he liked getting taken from both ends. Could easily get addicted to the taste of dog jizz, and he eagerly sucked Rumsfield's cock. Sort of an apology for liking the weight and package of a bigger dog in his ass.

Rumsfield didn't seem to mind and each day he brought more friends, all even bigger. He liked the Newfoundland mix the best. Big dog had a huge cock, an enormous knot and he fucked with an almost brutal speed and strength.

Dean came, but he didn't spurt. Been coming dry for the last hour. Shouldn't even be able to get hard, but his body loved getting fucked so much it was more than happy letting his prostate rock his world.

And his mouth. Fuck, he loved the taste of dog cock. Flat out whimpered whenever his stud's left his mouth unfilled. Fortunately, they liked getting deep throated almost as much as they liked Dean's cunt, so he currently had a Doberman fucking his throat. Newfoundland got greedy and took another turn. Both dogs were going at him with enthusiasm when he heard the rumble a truck out front, then Sam's voice calling, "Thanks." God, he'd gotten so into playing a bitch he'd forgotten it had been a week!

His little brother was home. Dean immediately tried to scramble to his feet, but a knot the size of an orange buried in his cunt kept Dean in place while his brother strolled across the yard. A smaller one in his mouth left him unable to do more than whimper, while his belly and ass were pumped full of spunk. He watched with wide eyes as Sam walked toward the house.

The moment he saw Dean, he froze and his jaw dropped. A second later, Sam hot-footed it inside.

Dean tried to think, tried to come up with some form of damage control. He really did, but the cocks spilling in him kept him from focusing. Even whined when the knot popped out of his ass. The next dog took that as a sign to mount him. Didn't know how much time passed, but the sun was a lot lower in the sky when he found his mouth and ass finally free.

He was trying to summon the strength to stand up, not to mention fight through the haze of bliss he felt to find a few sage words to make things okay, when Sam came back outside. He had two of Rumsfield's backup doggie bowls in his hands. His eyes fixed on Dean, he walked over, then sat them down in front of him. One had water in it; the other, a meaty stew with everything cut up into small bite-sized pieces. Huh. Well, the kid had always wanted a dog.

"Go ahead and eat, girl."

Girl? Dean arched an eyebrow.

Sam gave him a defiant look. "You spent the afternoon with dogs trying to bred you, that makes you a girl."

Well, if he put it that way. … Sam slowly reached out, then ran his hand along Dean's back. Took him a second to realize he was being petted. Felt kind of nice, and hey, if he played faithful dog for Sammy, the brat could hardly tell Dad and Bobby how Dean had spent at least one day of his alone time.

With that thought in mind, he took the hint when Sam gave him a gentle nudge toward the bowls. He eagerly lapped at the water, then started in on the stew. "Good, girl," Sam praised him, giving him a pat.

While Dean ate, Sam went and got a big tub, then started filling it with the hose. Yeah, Dean was all gross from sweat and come, but he eyed the bath preparations warily. That water was freaking _cold._

Apparently, big brain figured that out because he made a few trips into the house, returning each time with a kettle of boiling water. He tested the mix's temperature, then called, "Come here, girl."

Dean crawled over feeling far less awkward than he should. As Sammy washed him, he kept thinking how he'd fantasized about his brother being his master. Had to give Sam his due, wasn't indifferent at all. In fact, his touch was almost adoring. Sensual, but not sexy, not even when Sam washed his hole and genitals. Just really, really nice. Found himself leaning into the touches. Especially when Sam dried him off with a big fluffy towel.

When he finished, Sam held out a pair of boxers. "Rumsfield needs to learn clothes mean 'paws off.'"

Dean's eyes widened. Shit, he hadn't thought of what would happen when Dad and Bobby came home. Could hardly have the 'it's not you, it's me' talk with the dog and expect him to never try to jump Dean again. Grateful Sammy had figured something out, he didn't give him any shit about knowing Sam wanted 'his dog' to himself for the evening. Not even with a look.

His hole safely covered, he crawled after Sam, following him into the house. The nerd settled on the couch with a book, then patted the cushion next to him. Dean could take a hint, and curled up beside Sam, his head on Sam's thigh. Kid read and petted Dean the rest of the evening.

Around bedtime Dean's bladder decided it wanted attention. Now how did he find out what Sammy wanted him to do without talking? He could go to the door and scratch to get out like Rumsfield did, but he really didn't want to have to do his business outside and that might imply he did. Ah. He whimpered, and used his hand to gently paw at Sam's wrist like Rumsfield would the door.

"What's wrong, girl?"

He whimpered again and looked upstairs toward the bathroom. "You tired? Want to go to bed?"

Well, yes, but first things first. He whined and pawed again, hoping it gave a 'no' message to Sam, because if that didn't work he was going to need to talk.

But Sam got it. "Oh, okay. Go ahead. Just close the door." So Sam didn't have to see him on his feet. Yeah, that worked.

Dean crawled up the stairs, again it was easier and felt far less awkward than it should have been. "Brush you're teeth while you're at it!"

Dean huffed softly. He would have anyway, but if Sam wanted to give him orders to make Dean stay 'dog-like' when he had to do human stuff, he could play along.

At bedtime he almost broke character. Sam wanted him to sleep with him. Damn, he should have expected that. Kid would want the full-on Lassie bit with his faithful Dean snuggled up against him at night. So not only sleeping together, but … cuddling.

Dean's eyes narrowed and he made a growling sound. Sam gave him bitchface number 4 – _I can and will out-stubborn you on this._ Fuck.

He glanced toward the window. Rumsfield had a doghouse, and Dean would rather sleep on the ground outside, too, than cuddle.

"No," Sam said, his voice firm. "He's a guard dog."

Dean bristled at this. It was his job to look after Sammy! Of course he was a guard dog! He growled again to show his displeasure.

"No, Dean. You're mine."

Sammy's? Yes, he was Sammy's. But he always had been. He gave him a confused, questioning look. Didn't Sammy know he was Dean's world?

The kid's manner immediately softened. "You're mine, Dean. Let me take care of my girl."

Right. He was a girl-dog. Sammy's pretty lady dog. That made it okay to cuddle, didn't it? Dean decided it did, and hopped up onto the bed as best he could without 'going human.'

Sam grinned, turned out the lights, and immediately cuddled Dean close. In the last year, the bitch had gone and gotten a touch taller than him, so Dean fit annoyingly well into the little spoon role. He huffed, but didn't fight it. Not even when Sammy kissed the back of his neck to say goodnight.

*

In the morning, his nice clean doggie dish held bacon and eggs. Sammy gave him a second one full of coffee instead of water, and Dean rewarded his thoughtfulness by wiggling his bottom. Hadn't thought of doing it, just had. Made the kid's face light up, so okay, tail wagging.

After breakfast, Sam cleaned Dean's face. Gonna need some practice before he could eat without making a mess of himself. But Dad and Bobby weren't due back for weeks. He blinked. Was he playing puppy all summer? He decided not to decide. So far going with the flow had worked best, so he'd stick with that.

When he finished, Sam petted his face. What did they do now? He knew there would be studs waiting for him in the yard, and his cock was already hard at the thought, but what did Sam want?

Almost like he had freaky mind-reading powers, the kid gave him a kiss on the forehead. "I know you're in heat, girl. But you're mine in the evenings. Got that?"

Dean barked, then wagged his tail. Sammy rewarded him, by pulling off the boxers. He gave Dean's ass a pat. "Go service your studs."

*

"That's impressive."

Because he'd been a naughty, judgmental bitch, two of the smaller dogs had figured out how to mount him at the same time. Jammed his cunt full of two knots, while one of the larger dogs made do with Dean's mouth. So blissed out on getting used, he didn't even think to growl when the Impala's engine fired up, and Sam drove off in his baby.

By the time Sam returned, Newfoundland was giving Dean a serious pounding. His entire body shuddered with each thrust, and Dean yipped his encouragement, hoping it was dog for 'harder, faster!' Wanted this stud's puppies. Four of them filling his belly, fighting over his dripping tits. All male, so they'd grow up and take turns fucking him senseless. He moaned loudly and came, the images in his head so vivid he knew they'd be his jerk off fantasy for years.

Afterwards, Rumsfield and a Doberman spit-roasted him. Dean loved getting fucked, loved the orgasms, but something inside him loved these moments best. He was spent, unable to get aroused. Being totally and utterly used like the bitch he was. Absolutely the best thing about doggie-sex. The stud's didn't give a freaking damn what Dean wanted or felt. All they cared about was his hole and his mouth. So fucking good.

*

After his dinner and evening bath, Sam gave Dean a collar. Was made of soft leather that felt sinfully good around his neck. The small metal tag dangling from it read, 'Dean. Property of Sam Winchester.'

The sight of it made a warmth spread through Dean's entire body, and he teared up when Sam buckled it around his neck. Made it easy to cuddle with his Sammy, to play fetch and chase after balls. He belonged to Sam. His owner. His master. Sammy.

*

As summer wound down, fewer and fewer dogs showed up. Dean assumed it was because his cunt refused to catch and grow their pups. But he didn't mind. Gave him more ass and mouth time with Newfoundland and Rumsfield. In turn, they only used him in the mornings, giving him more time to be Sammy's girl. By mid-August, the big black dog failed to appear.

Dean missed the huge cock, but Rumsfield was overjoyed to have his bitch all to himself again, so he was getting fucked hard, when Sam came outside. He seldom talked to Dean when he was in bitch-mode, but he sat down on the porch with a sigh.

Once the Rottweiler turned them ass-to-ass, Dean let out his own sigh. Then, for the first time in nine weeks, he spoke, "Dad and Bobby on the way home?"

Oddly enough Sam didn't jump at the sound. "Yeah, should be here late tonight."

When Rumsfield's knot popped out, Dean went to take a shower. He knew he could have asked Sam to give him one last bath, but he needed to do a few human things to help get him back into the right mindset. Clothes felt odd, but not in a bad way. Just different.

He helped Sam gather up all his doggie toys, washed his bowls, even made Sam lunch. One thing he put off until the phone call confirming Dad and Bobby would arrive within the next two hours. He hung up the phone, happy at the thought of seeing the two men again. He'd missed them and couldn't regret the loss of sex when it meant they were coming home safe. But he did have one regret.

"You need to take it off, Sammy."

Sam sighed and got up from sofa. His big fingers traced the leather around Dean's neck, but instead of unbuckling it, he leaned forward so their foreheads were pressed together. "Does it all have to stop, Dean?" He asked. "Do you have to go back to pretending you don't like being touched? Don't like me showing you how much I love you?"

He almost said yes. He was Sam's big brother. His protector. Do anything for his Sammy. Even die for him. Just like Sammy's girl. "I suppose we could still cuddle. When no one else is around."

Sam smiled. A bright happy one. He unfastened the collar, then gently pulled it away from Dean's neck. "I'm keeping this," he said. "For when you need more than cuddles. Just ask for it."

For a moment he tried to pretend Sam meant the fucking, but no. He felt stronger inside than he had in a long time. Happier. "Okay."

Sam looked relieved, and it occurred to Dean, how mellow and happy Sam had been, too. Hadn't even got pissy about all the sex. Maybe he really did need to take care of Dean as much as Dean needed to take care of him. While Sam took the 'evidence' of their summer upstairs to stow in the bottom of a duffle, Dean considered things.

His brother could be such an angry kid, always raging with Dad about hunting and wailing for a normal life. But nothing about this summer sounded all that normal to Dean. And Sam had spent as much time reading Bobby's books as literature during their evenings together on the couch. Even read them to Dean more than once so he knew they were hard-core hunting info.

Dean sat down in the middle of the sofa and turned an expectant look on his brother when he returned. Sam grinned, sat down beside him, and Dean immediately snuggled close. Liked being in Sammy's arms. Made him feel all warm and safe and loved. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"You tell me, too."

"Tell you what?"

"When you need your girl back."

Sam kissed the top of his head. "I will. I promise."

end


End file.
